


There and Back

by gsmaxwell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Derek, Getting Together, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Monster of the Week, Oblivious Stiles, college!fic, original background characters - Freeform, to be jossed in january, yay japan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 01:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gsmaxwell/pseuds/gsmaxwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Normally, Stiles was pretty cool about water. Beach, sand, surf, hot girls in bikinis, in-style large shades to hide the track of his eyes; yeah, summer time was kind of a capital time for Stiles. </p><p>But this, this cold numbing swirling mess that was sucking over his head, stealing the precious bubbles from his lungs, that wasn’t cool at all. </p><p>(Stiles accidentally turns the pack into a cross-country supernatural crime-fighting team and then it goes international)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hajime

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been itching to write a story set around where I live (where is in Japan) (and about fifty kilometers from where Stiles and Derek are) because they always say write what you know and... well, I've never really set foot in the US. 
> 
> I also really wanted to write this and get it out before the infamous season 3B because I'm pretty sure the Powers That Be will be delving into Japanese mythology and this fic is going to get so hardcore overturned. 
> 
> I'm a pretty speedy writer and I've got quite a bit of time on my hands right now so I'm sure this will be finished soon. Cheers everyone!

Normally, Stiles was pretty cool about water. Beach, sand, surf, hot girls in bikinis, in-style large shades to hide the track of his eyes; yeah, summer time was kind of a capital time for Stiles.

 

But this, this cold numbing swirling mess that was sucking over his head, stealing the precious bubbles from his lungs, that wasn’t cool at all.

 

Perhaps he should have listened more with his upstairs brain when Nao had looked at him with big, hopeful eyes across the library table. _Asian Myths and Folklore_ was the book that had caused him so much trouble; it had been for a class, for God’s sake. It’s like not he researched Japanese horror stories and demon legends in his spare time. At least, not any more, after he stepped on his _Battle Royale_ DVD in junior high. And especially not when he had had his own backyard full of homegrown monsters.

 

He supposed he had made himself a supernatural sob story magnet when he declared Criminal Psychology and Medieval Studies as his majors because, come on, it was like waving two red flags in front of a herd of possessed bulls (or Taros, the latest monster he had helped a small town in rural Idaho banish when he had been State-side. Derek had _loved_ him for that one. Stiles still argued that now the pack and three deep freezers full of kind-of-beef so wasn’t that worth the goring?). It wasn’t as if Stiles had put up a Craigslist advert about a “Misfit Mythical Band of Crime and/or Demon Fighting Werewolves For Hire” or anything. He didn’t _have_ to because living in a place called Beacon Hills was like a foreshadow of being a freaking beacon for everything that ever went bump in the night this side of the Pacific.

 

And now, it seemed, on the other side as well.

 

Stiles hadn’t been expecting trouble so soon after arriving. He had to fly economy because it wasn’t like his day job as a barista at the on-campus coffee shop paid enough for first class. He had flown before, New York was hardly within driving distance to Beacon Hill, but twenty-seven hours with a transfer in LA had left him swaying in his feet in Tokyo and the short nap on the drive to Nao’s family’s hotel hadn’t exactly cancelled out the jet lag. He had just meant to take a short walk around the lake. It was freaking Mt. Fuji and Central Park wasn’t exactly a replacement for real nature. The trees were a bit different and Japan had a sticky, heavy heat that he had never really experienced living in Northern California but it was too nice to not stretch his legs.

 

Nao had _told_ him, repeatedly, to steer clear of the river gap. He should always listen to advice like that. But his feet had a mind of their own and now the kappa had a hold of them and it was down, down, down in an off-set lake.

 

Typical, that as dark spots started to form over his vision all he could think about was goddamn high school and whether or not he wanted to hold on to the last few molecules of air, just in case.

 

The bright light that Stiles assumed was up went dark and something boney jabbed him hard in the ribs. He felt his body twist away, a painful squeezing in his chest and suddenly the harsh, bone-crushing vice on his ankles released. He didn’t remember clearly what happened next, something warm and solid pushing him up, then something slamming just below his sternum making him jolt and cough violently, vomiting from his stomach, his lungs he wasn’t sure which, and the sun painfully bright again.

 

“You idiot!”

 

Even as Stiles choked out the last bit of bile-tasting river water he recognized that irritated angry tone.

 

“Is he okay?”

 

The ground was mossy where it wasn’t packed dirt but there was a sharp rock under his cheek. Stiles didn’t really care that he was probably breathing in some kind of foreign, mossy-spore because it came with bonus air and Stiles really hadn’t thought that much about how cool and awesome oxygen was.

 

Derek was blocking the sun again and his shins dug into Stile’s side as he leaned over and pried his eye open. Stiles tried to bat him away because, hello, breathing here, but it was a little fun to see Derek’s hair plastered down across his forehead.

 

“He’ll be fine, if I don’t kill him myself.”

 

Stiles frowned but couldn’t respond right away as Derek manhandled him like a ragdoll from his side to his back despite the burn in his chest.

 

“I don’t think,” Stiles winced at how much it hurt to pull in enough air to speak, “that you should, be so, mean to me. Right now.”

 

“You were almost got killed by the thing we came to specifically kill!” Oh, that was Derek’s special Pissed Off voice. “Do you have any idea how stupid that was? How much irony it would take to explain to your father how you knew exactly what not to do then you did it anyway?”

 

Stiles just glared because he was still recovering and he couldn’t think of a good enough come back to waste his breath on. His precious, awesome breath.

 

Derek eased him up and Stiles tried spitting the bitter taste in out mouth out. Nao was standing a few feet away from the lake, looking wide-eyed at the now calm lake, his hands clenched with white knuckles. “I’ve never actually seen it before. I thought my grandmother was crazy.”

 

“Well, now you have,” Derek said tensely. “Help me get him to his feet.”

 

Nao was a first generation American, born in New York while his father worked at a company just outside of the city and was a music major. He and Stiles didn’t run in the same circles at all but that was pretty much how Stiles operated his unintentional underground network of supernatural informants. He was kind of like a disc-jockey, spinning supernatural beings together from coast to coast.

 

Only Scott had thought that analogy was cool.

 

They were staying at Nao’s family hotel, though it wasn’t like the hotels Stiles was used to staying in. Nao’s grandmother lived not far out of Tokyo, maybe two hours or so outside of the city. Stiles had been expecting a bit more neon, maybe some Tokyo drift-esque kind of tattooed guys wandering around with wooden swords and missing pinkies but, admittedly, he had slept the whole ride out of the city.  This was more like a small hamlet, population eighty and decreasing. Few of the buildings were over two stories and several looked empty and dusty. It had been noon when they arrived and Stiles had felt cramped and irritably in the back seat of the tiny card with his knees pressed up to his chest. His first impression was a little unkind but when they had pulled up to the hotel, and he hadn’t fallen flat on his face trying to squeeze out of the tiny back seat, things felt brighter. It had been kind of nice to see dark circles under Derek’s eyes as well because not even supermodel werewolf Alphas could look fresh as a daisy after heinously long flights.

 

The hotel had been nice, if nothing like an American hotel. They had to take off their shoes in the entrance way and Stiles felt a little bad shoving his smelly socks into guest sized L slippers. Nao grandmother had seemed nice as well, a tiny lady with snow-white hair in a faded lavender kimono. She had a surprisingly strong grip as she pulled Stiles by the elbow to their rooms, speaking non-stop to Nao who had been nodding off and yawning since exiting the car. They had to take off their slippers yet again when they got to the room and Stiles almost tripped over the step when he realized not only would he and Derek be sharing a room they would be practically sharing a _bed_ from the way the floor mattresses had been shoved close together in the small space.

 

“Sorry,” Nao said when he saw Stile’s face. “I’m going to stay in the main house with my grandmother and this is the only room she has available. This isn’t exactly the Hilton but most of our guests get here tomorrow and, uh, they’re paying,” Nao fidgeted. “It’s a little small but out of the way so you won’t be disturbed,” he glanced nervously at where Derek was blankly surveying the bamboo floored room. “Uh, I mean, because of the full moon thing, not because of other things-“

 

Stiles waved off Nao’s shuttering words because it wasn’t like he had given the kid a crash course in lycanthropy when he had told him he would be bringing his werewolf bodyguard to investigate the mysterious drownings. The kid barely believed that Stiles, a complete stranger, had been willing to hop on a plane over a childhood fairy tale.

 

Now, though, he kind of wished he had explained to Nao better about what being a werewolf entailed because as he leaned heavily on Derek’s shoulder the kid looked white as a sheet and kept sidestepping every time Derek got too close. He also wished he had explained better that it wasn’t the fact Derek was a werewolf that made him look like he was going to eat everyone’s face off, that was purely a Derek thing. Stiles had met plenty of gentlemanly werewolves.

 

Come to think of it, Stiles was much happier Derek had been forcefully volunteered for this trip instead of Peter who sometimes looked at Stiles with a smile that was one part dapper gent and two parts Hannibal Lecter. It had been hard enough convincing Nao that werewolves were real (a stepping stone to convincing him that all the Japanese folk tales he had heard growing up were probably based in some kind of truth as well) he didn’t want to have to explain zombie-werewolves. He already knew the chessboard explanation of it all was a bad idea.

 

The small, tucked away room seemed much more welcoming this time around. The bed had been laid out by the staff earlier so they could rest after the plane ride but Stiles had felt a sudden burst of energy after an hour of restless tossing and he wasn’t about to waste his first time abroad (chasing a fake big foot over the border in Canada didn’t count) by sleeping. Derek had all but kicked him out the door with a growly threat to come back when he was ready to settle down like a normal human being. But, from the puncture holes in the paper framed window cover, Derek had been keeping track of Stiles while he was resting. Somehow. Every time Stiles asked about it he was soundly shot down with “I’m the Alpha,” which always seemed to be punctuated with some kind of derogatory insult.

 

Stiles was pretty grateful for whatever weird werewolf senses always seemed to make Derek aware of him, even if it meant ruining every surprise trip home he tried. It was creepy but dead useful. Not Dead useful actually.

 

Stiles may still be recovering from some oxygen deprivation.

 

The walk up the hill had let them dry off some but as they stood awkwardly in the entrance way, him arm still slung over Derek’s shoulder, Stiles was uncomfortably aware he was still dripping and his jeans were chafing. He also suddenly realized the one thing that room was missing.

 

“Uh, Nao? Where’s the shower in this place?”

 

The reason the hotel was so different, Nao had explained while they sat in LA, Stiles and Nao catching their transfer flight and Derek joining them for the final leg of the journey, was because it was a traditional kind of place. It had been in the family for generations. A _ryokan_ , he had said enthusiastically and Stiles had soaked it in because Japan also had ninjas, samurai and yakuza. _Ryokan_ sounded badass, like some kind of martial arts take down. But Stiles was quickly remembering all the other things from his guide book. Tea ceremony. Haiku. And communal baths.

 

Usually the baths were only open from certain times for each gender but it was a weekday with few guests so Nao quickly led them through empty halls so no one would see Stiles and Derek’s muddy appearance and unlocked the door.

 

“You put your clothes in there,” Nao pointed to a row of woven baskets on a wooden shelf. “Showers,” he pointed to a glass door steamed over where Stiles assumed the bath was as well, “shampoo, soaps is all there. I know it’s a little weird for you guys but in Japan most people don’t care about nudity in the baths-“

 

Seriously, sometimes Stiles wondered if the only reason Derek wore clothes was because he had already been accused of murder a lot and didn’t want to add indecent exposure to the list. Nao’s voice cut off abruptly as Derek took off his shirt in one smooth move, revealing tones abs and arms that looked like they belonged on a men’s magazine not an actual, breathing person. Stiles like to think of it as the Beacon Hills Affect, a town with too many beautiful people, where even the teenagers were Adonis gods and blissfully unaware of the fortunes they could be making if only the big label gay porn studios moved their shooting locations a little further north. It was hilarious to watch Nao’s eyes bug out but he took pity on the poor kid when Derek shamelessly went for his belt.

 

“Thanks, Nao,” he pushed him back out the door. Nao twisted his neck uncomfortably to keep a lock on Derek as Stiles heard the sound of wet jeans hitting the floor. “We’ll be fine. You should tell your grandmother though, definitely a kappa.”

 

He closed the door firmly before turning back to roll his eyes at Derek with a sigh. “Jeez, don’t give the kid a complex or anything.”

 

Derek narrowed his eyes murderously as he picked up his wet clothes, clad only in boxer-briefs, also soaked and doing nothing to hide anything. “Hurry up. The faster you wash off and warm up the faster we can kill that thing and go home.”

 

“Really?” Stiles made sure to keep a healthy berth around Derek as he went to pull a wicket basket off the shelf, examining it. “I spend two month’s rent on this ticket and you think I’m just going to shot the thing and run back? It’s summer vacation, I’ve got at least a week until my dad really starts to get upset, and,” Stiles shivered as he pulled off his own wet, now dirt-crusted shirt, “I want to throw a ninja star. Besides, you’re a werewolf, you could probably learn something about channeling your inner peace, your zen. Control the inner beast.”

 

Stiles could practically hear Derek’s teeth grinding. “I have controlled my inner beast.”

 

Stiles, unfortunately, was painfully aware he hadn’t been born (or bitten) with the Beacon Hill gift-to-mankind after years of awkward locker room comparisons but the thought of a warm bath was too appealing to be shy. He shucked his own jeans, shedding his boxers to make Derek uncomfortable, and tossed them with a heavy wet sound into the basket. “Well, you could have fooled me, Mister-my-anchor-is-my-anger.”

 

Instead of retorting, Derek stalked off to the glass room and disappeared into the cloud of steam. Stiles chocked a victory for himself on his mental tally. There were towels sitting freshly folded nearby and he wrapped one around his waist, grabbing one for Derek as well because he wasn’t so terrible as to let Derek wallow in twisted briefs. The chafing alone would probably make Derek even more irritated and Stiles was the one who would bear the brunt of that for the next few days.

 

The bath wasn’t huge but it could definitely fit several people comfortable. The whole room was filled with heat and steam and Stiles took a deep, soothing breath. A window ran along the opposite wall from floor to the bath’s edge showing the green forest, a peak of the largest lake behind it and the almost perfectly symmetrical volcano-like mountain that had prompted Stiles to walk too close to the edge of the water. There was a line of shower heads in front of mirrors separated by a small walls that only came up to Stiles’s knee. A small wooden stool was in front of each one and Derek was awkwardly squinting at a laminated sign one the wall with a helpful, naked cartoon man demonstrating how to wash one’s hair. Stiles tossed the towel at Derek’s head.

 

It made sense to at least wash off the dirt and mud before going into the bath so Stiles rinsed quickly, keeping his eyes politely diverted as Derek shuffled out of the last of his clothes. Sinking into the water after was cathartic, the temperature hot enough to feel like it was burning the stress out of his muscles. He closed his eyes for a minute, relishing in the reaffirmation that, yes, as long as he wasn’t being dragged to the bottom of a freezing cold lake by a slimy demon-creature, water still rated as an a-okay activity.

 

He felt the water lap against his neck as Derek slid in on the opposite side of the bath and he opened his eyes, keeping his gaze locked on Derek’s stubble and not at the skin below the waterline as the older man frowned out the window like nature personally offended him.

 

“Oh my God,” Stiles groaned. “ _What_ are you upset about now?”

 

“I should have checked on the pack but this place doesn’t have Wifi in the room.”

 

The water was too hot and relaxing to get upset but Derek was radiating tension like a ticking bomb. “They’ll be fine. Allison got back from France the same day we left so I’m pretty sure you won’t get a hold of Scott. Lydia is doing that thing in Atlanta. Isaac and Cora have exams, and, honestly, I’m pretty sure if Peter fell down a well somewhere it would be for the good of mankind. Derek, there is literally no one to check on.”

 

“But-“

 

“No!” Stiles flicked his hand over the water, hitting Derek in the chest with a small spray of water. “Sit. Relax. My brain thinks it’s 3 in the morning and that’s way too early to deal with you little wolfy-spidey-senses.” Stiles closed his eyes again.

 

Derek was surprisingly quiet and Stiles let out a sigh of relief.

 

Okay, it was tough being the head info guy of a wolf pack based primarily on the west coast of the country, especially since Stiles had gotten into school in New York. Actually, getting a call or picture of fuzzy green sparkling monsters at 3 am was pretty par for course. Stiles wasn’t sure his body worked on a regular 24 hour system anymore with the amount of time he spent on schoolwork, pack work, his regular job, his underground job, and all the borderline illegal activity some of those things entailed. But New York had been where his mother had studied and when a sizeable scholarship from the alumni association surprisingly came through- well, it was a no brainer. Stiles would have been content with a state school but he had been born with an itch in his feet and he often stupidly forgot the consequences of that.

 

It had been nice to be the frantic 3am-caller this time around after he had gotten the nerve-wrecked, underaged freshman Nao drunk in a seedy bar under a new age shop.

 

“People just keep disappearing,” Nao had seemed particular to the neon green drink Stiles’s ex-roommate’s girlfriend kept brewing behind the bar (seriously, the fact that Stiles had ended up rooming with a girl named Twilight Star because the college hadn’t been able to tell his gender from his application form, and then two weeks later he had to help her exorcise a demon from her girlfriend-now-turned-bartender was just more proof Stiles was going to end up writing a bestiary as his thesis someday). “It’s, like, you know. A big thing. In Japan. That mountain. And, my grandmother just thinks it those _things_ -“

 

“Kappa demon,” Stiles had casually slid another green thing down the bar at Nao. Nao looked at him with watery eyes and Stiles tried to give a disarmed grin. “Keep going.”

 

“But they aren’t _real_!”

 

“Yes, definitely” Stiles had said soothingly. “But, tell me what you know about kappa demons.”

 

Perhaps it had been a bit naïve to promise Nao he could help. After all, Stiles did have the aforementioned responsibilities plus the ever strained relationship with his father. However, he was riding the high of finishing up his second year, he had finally gotten the number of the cute blue-haired bassist in Twlight Star’s band, and so far their records for evil beasts vanquished was top notch. Momentum was the key to success and Stiles was just trying to ride that high of good luck and good feelings.

 

Before the week was out he had strong armed Derek into booking a flight. He wasn’t sure why Derek had agreed, he had certainly been spitting nails at Stiles after the whole Idaho thing, but when he had told Derek he was going to be heading off with or without pack approval he could almost feel the rage building on the other side of the phone before there was a bit off _“Fine_ ,” and then a very cranky dial tone.

 

Stiles thought he had a pretty good grasp on his motivations. He had no idea why Derek had joined him. It wasn’t like Derek seemed to be harboring some love of the east or international travel. He had looked suspicious and uncomfortable every step of the journey and snapped whenever Stiles tried to point it out.

 

Stiles didn’t realize he had been sliding further into the hot water until Derek send his own splash of water across the surface, double the size much more vindictive. “Don’t fall asleep in here.”

 

Stiles snorted violently, some of the water had gone up his _nose_ , but grudgingly sat up so his chest was out of the water. Satisfied he had sufficiently annoyed Stiles, Derek twisted to get out of the tub and Stiles got a rather nice flash of Derek’s sculpted ass before he wrapped himself in the towel.

 

The only thing to wear back to the rooms were their still wet clothes or starched cotton robes that Stiles was convinced were way too thin to not show everything. Still, if he was uncomfortable with the thought of bearing it all through the halls under white, scratchy cotton Derek looked insulted by the prospect and they both ended up walking back to their room commando in wet jeans and smelly shirts.

 

The beds had been folded away and were mysteriously gone from the room which made it look much larger than before. Someone, probably Nao, had tastily taped over the four small claw markers in the paper window covering and there was a healthy, cool breeze in the room which felt nice after the humid walk and the hot bath.

 

Stiles had brought the maximum allowance on the plane and he grunted as he tipped the suitcase over so he could open it. Derek, meanwhile, had a black duffel bag that looked half empty and lumpy. Stiles had made one, teensy comment about conspicuous terrorists and whether Derek had a return ticket. Derek had looked ready to claw off his face, which Stiles had pointed out wasn’t going to helping his image.

 

Other fun facts that happened when traveling with lycanthropy: the drug dogs whimpering at Derek’s scent; the ID photo they had to take at the airport baffling the customs workers until they had finally given up after trying three machines; and the mistrustful officers struggling with broken English to ask Stiles why exactly he needed so many ancient books with gruesome step-by-step diagrams of ritual Japanese sacrifices.

 

Honestly, Stiles was just impressed Derek had a passport.

 

Besides the books, Stiles had brought clothes, obviously, but he was wondering if perhaps he had misjudged. Nao had warned him it would be hot so Stiles had grabbed tee-shirts but many of them felt much heavier than he remembered. He unearthed a rumpled pair of cargo shorts until a musty copy of _East Asian Blood Rites_ and a shirt that had seen enough washings it had lost the thick chemically treated cotton feel.

 

Not long after they had both dressed, Nao got them for food in rooms set a bit off from the main hotel building. This was where his grandmother lived, he explain as they walked on a small wooden bridge connecting the two buildings and ran over a small but meticulously cared for stone and moss garden. There was a pond and Stiles was more than delighted to see a flash of orange koi fish. Usually guests were served food in the room but the few staff workers had been more or less informed of Stiles and his… guest.

 

Nao had said it like that, making sure to concentrate intensely on unlocking the wood sliding door to the house as Derek’s lip curled in a snarl. Stiles stomped on his foot but the cushy slippers didn’t have much effect.

 

“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed to be my,” Stiles fluttered his eyelashes, “guest.”

 

“I’m more concerned you’re treating this like a vacation.”

 

“You need to loosen up,” Stiles shot back, quietly because Nao was obviously uncomfortable and trying to make himself disappear into the neatly trimmed green bush. “What, when was the last time you got laid? They close down all the fun and excitement in California or something?”

 

“No,” Derek’s eyes flashed. “But you’re the one who dragged me here for a stupid little water sprite. I thought it was serious.”

 

“Three people are dead,” Stiles said, Derek sucking the humor out of him as usual. “Of course it’s serious. Do you really think I’d fly halfway around the world if I didn’t think it was important?”

 

“I don’t know _what_ you think is important anymore.”

 

What the hell was _that_ supposed to mean?

 

“What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?”

 

But instead of replying, Derek grabbed his shoulders in a steely grip and spun him around almost violently enough to knock him off his feet. A red faced Nao and his quizzical grandmother were staring back at them.

 

“My grandmother says that the food is ready,” Nao coughed.

 

Derek shouldered past Stiles, leaving him angry and confused, two sensations that were unwelcome in the sweltering heat.


	2. Shoukai shimashou!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never, right?

The hotel had been dainty, and simple with decoration. The room they were staying was mostly empty, just two low chairs and an end table in the enclosed sitting room by the window that could be separated by the paper doors. The house, in contrast, was a house. An old house, if the small of wood, dust and human beings was anything to go by. The hallways were long and narrow with slippery, well-polished wood. The walls were thin and paper when Stiles touched them until he realized they were actually sliding doors on dark, smooth runners. Nao’s grandmother led them down into the house a little ways and opened one such door. Nao gestured them to go in and Stiles was excited to see they were actually going to be sitting on the floor to eat.

 

The bamboo mats were laid out in a spiraling pattern, a uniform size to them with gold flecked green borders separating them. A low dark table was in the middle of the room, the only furniture in the room, and along one wall was a low shelf with a calligraphy scroll and modest blue flower stand. Thin cushions were around the table and Stiles sat, running his hands over the woven floor, wondering exactly how it was made, what was under it, regular floor or was it straight into the dirt? Was there a basement?

 

Nao’s grandmother had changed from her earlier clothes and was dressed more simply in a plaid skirt and button blouse. Derek, Stiles and Nao sat cross-legged on three sides of the table but she settled comfortably on her knees and reached for the tea pot amid the small, colourful plates of indiscernible food. She said something in a sharp tone to Nao who jumped for a small remote. Almost right away, Stiles could feel a cool breeze on the back of his neck from the air conditioner above his head. The old lady grinned at him and gestured for the handle-less cup in front of him.

 

“Tea,” she said loudly. “Green tea, very good.”

 

“Uh, thanks,” Stiles scrambled to pass her his cup from across the table without knocking anything over.

 

“My grandmother says that she’s sorry you got caught by the kappa,” Nao said. He still had dark circles under his eyes but the paleness in his face had faded. Stiles knew he had been making the journey from New York to Japan since he had been a kid so whatever methods he had for dealing with the jet lag made him look better than Stiles was starting to feel. “The disappearances have never been so close to the hotel or else she wouldn’t have let you go out with a bit more protection.”

 

“Protection?” Stiles glanced between the older lady who was now pouring a cup of green, hot tea for Derek. “What kind of protection?”

 

There was plenty of food on the table: a plate with a fried, whole fish, another with some kind of purplish jelly, a black seaweed-like clump mixed with beans. It was all laid out with a concise sense of order which was what had stopped Stiles of giving in to his growling stomach but in the middle of the table was a plastic bag, just the kind you could get at the grocery store, with several whole cucumbers in it. Nao reached into the bag and pulled one out, offering it to Stiles for inspection.

 

“She said if you give it to them it’s like a bribe.”

 

Stiles was afraid to ask exactly _why_ a cucumber would deter a turtle-frog demon from wanting to eat his insides but his expression must have given away his horror. Nao’s grandmother chuckled and said something rapidfire to Nao who translated, “They like to eat them more than they like to eat humans.”

 

“So if we just arm all the tourists with cucumbers that’ll keep them safe, huh?” Stiles set the vegetable gingerly on the table in front of him. “That seems like an easy fix.”

 

Nao’s grandmother said something else then gestured at the door before she stood from her kneel with way more grace and ease than Stiles could do on his best days and left, sliding the door shut behind her. “She said to enjoy the food, she’s going to find some more books and stuff for you to look at though I’m not sure how much good they’ll be. I’m not the best at reading Japanese and I have to start getting ready for all the tourists that’ll be coming soon.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Stiles waved him off as he reached for the chopsticks, his stomach growling. “They invented the internet for a reason.”

 

Stiles had little problems using chopsticks. Two years in New York had made him savvy with all sorts of eating procedures, from pita wrapped shwarma as he jogged through crowded streets to class to the flat metal chopsticks at the higher end Korean restaurants his brief relationship with Becky Park. However, he was a little surprised when Derek easily dug into his own food. Derek glared at him when he caught Stiles staring. “What?”

 

“Nothing,” Stiles hastily scoped up something yellow and paste-like before gagging on the tart, bitter flavor that went all the way up his nose. He could see Derek smirked at that as he downed the cup of green tea. “I just thought you were more of a eat-with-your-hands, straight-off-the-bone kind of guy,” he tried keep from gagging. “Oh my God, what is this?”

 

Nao was chuckling. “Sea urchin, Japanese specialty.”

 

“It tastes like feet,” Stiles shoveled some rice into his mouth hoping it would cover the taste. “Like Scott’s sweaty socks after lacrosse practice, don’t-“ he held up a hand to Derek who just raised one eyebrow, “ask me how I know what his socks taste like. Just, trust me on that.”

 

“I did bring this,” Nao reached for a folded piece of paper next to the table and Stiles and Derek helped to clear a space for him to spread it out. It was a map of the area, more cartoonish and touristy than actually geographically but Stiles quickly spotted a green character grinning from one of the five lakes around the mountain, which true to life look eerily like a volcano. He jabbed a finger at it.

 

“That’s not what a kappa looks like,” he glared accusingly at the small frog-like cheerful creature that was mockingly waving at him. “For one, he looks more like Kermit than the green-seaweed monster that tried to eat my face.”

 

“They have a lot of faces,” Nao agreed. “This is a map of the area around here. There are five main lakes, Shoji, Mototsu, Yamanaka, Sai and Kawaguchi. They’re called the Fuji five lakes and it’s a major attraction for tourists, Japanese and foreign. They were created by the lava flow from the last eruption.”

 

“Wait, what?” Stiles stared at the innocuous smiling mountain on the map. “You mean that thing erupts?”

 

“Oh, not for a long time,” Nao said reassuringly. “And most of the scientists think it won’t erupt any time soon.”

 

“Most?” Stiles knew his voice was getting a little squeaky. “What to the others say?”

 

Nao hesitated but reached across the table to pat his hand. “Don’t worry, all the cities around here have very extensive evacuation plans. Here,” he pointed to a pink road running from the main town into the surrounding forest.  His finger rested on a place between Sai and Kawaguchi. “This is the hotel. It’s set a bit back from the town but you can use my rental car while you’re here. You, uh,” he looked at Stiles nervously. “You did get your international license, right?”

 

Stiles nodded, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact he had signed on to living on an active volcano for the next few weeks. Derek ignored him and pointed out a part of the forest set around the mountain and past the lake closest to them. It was blocked off by a blue barrier and while the rest of the landmarks had extensive, colouring English descriptions with more cartoon characters introducing them, this was had only a short label. “What’s that?”

 

“That’s Aokigahara,” Nao said. “It’s shaded because there’s large iron deposit under it that messes up compasses. If you guy get near there just make sure to mark your trail. People can get lost turned around easily.”

 

“Alright, so maybe I don’t have the best sense of direction but don’t fret,” Stiles clapped Derek on the shoulder. “Derek here can always find his way home, can’t you, boy?”

 

Stiles snatched his hand away quickly as Derek bristled and gave him a murderous look. Still, what would an adventure be without the good old Hale charm? It was something Stiles would be hard pressed to admit but when Derek had agreed to come he had been relieved. If there was ever a time Stiles needed to be distracted it was now.

 

“Tomorrow I recommend just getting used to the time difference,” Nao said. “If you go for a walk,” he gave Stiles a nervous look, “Make sure you don’t go alone. There have already been three deaths in Lake Sai this summer and you were almost four.”

 

Stiles swallowed hard but nodded. “Roger. Tomorrow I’ll abide by the leash laws, _for me, a leash for me_!” He held up his hands defensively as Derek growled and snapped a plastic chopstick. Nao had nearly tripped over his feet putting distance between himself and Stiles smiled wickedly when the younger boy stammered a halfhearted apology and started to shakily get to his feet.

 

“I-I’ll see y-you two tomorrow.” Stiles could hardly blame the kid, it took a while to find the line one could talk with a werewolf and Stiles would be lying if he said he wasn’t pushing it a bit. “But the books! I’ll p-put the books in your room!” Then he fled, sliding the door shut with a bang. Stiles raised an eyebrow at Derek who was looking at the broken chopstick with an almost regretful expression.

 

“Now, now, you’ve got to stop scaring the clients.”

 

“Client,” Derek snorted. “You mean this one is paying?”

 

“Well, not exactly,” Stiles said. “But free digs? Seeing the world? Isn’t that the reward in itself?”

 

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t pay for your vacations on the back of my pack.”

 

Stiles frowned. “It’s not like you’ve done any group building exercises with them. I’m just trying to get them to bond.”

 

“Bond?” Derek repeated incredulously. “You think pulling them from their lives around the country and putting them in life-threatening situations is a bonding exercise?”

 

“Well, if I remember correctly, you, Erica, Boyd and Isaac bonded over trying to kill Lydia that one time,” Stiles shot back. “I thought blood and mayhem was the Derek approved method.”

 

Derek stood abruptly. “A lot has changed Stiles and if that’s what you think brings people together maybe you should rethink that whole psychology degree.”

 

Stiles frowned but let Derek stalk out of the room without trying to stop him. Maybe the older man had a point but Stiles wasn’t going to let on that his words were hitting dangerously close to home.

 

***

 

There was something black and disgusting on Stiles’s pillow when he woke up. It took him a moment to register it  but when he did the lingering lethargy disappeared in a heart stopping moment and he threw himself backwards. If he had been in a bed he would have been dumped on the ground but, as it was, he instead sent himself scrambling across the floor and into his still sleeping roommate.

 

Derek woke up in an instant and before Stiles could think he was flipped onto his stomach, his arm twisted painfully behind his back and Derek’s heavy weight pinning him to the soft futon mattress. He froze, the memory of where he was, who he was with, and what kind of damage Derek could do to him just by breathing the wrong way while he was in his position making him more awake than any creepy, black monster in his bed.

 

“Stiles,” his name vibrated in Derek’s throat, Derek’s mouth and pointed teeth almost touching the back of his hairline. “What are you doing.” Derek’s voice was too flat for it to be a question.

 

“Uh,” Stiles spit out the white pillowcase from his mouth and turned his head so he could speak. “There was something in my bed.”

 

Derek released him from the hold in a flash, crouching instead of straddling Stiles’s lower back and Stiles managed to twist his whole body to see that Derek was halfway to wolfed out.

 

There, illuminated by the pink, barely-there rising sunlight, was an ugly, twisted bug about the length of his entire thumb.

 

“It’s a cicada,” Derek relaxed, his features shifting back to human. He glanced down to give Stiles and incredulous look. “You were afraid of a bug.”

 

Before Stiles could reply, an unholy loud sound erupted from the bug and both of them froze as it moved. Stiles shoved Derek off of him and picked up the pillow like it was a bomb. He had to step over Derek but he flicked the bug out of the window and closed the paper covers firmly. It had been too hot the night before to close the glass and the morning air was still heavy and humid but at least the paper would keep out the bugs. Hopefully.

 

Derek had been out prowling around the hotel when Stiles had gone back to the room. He poured over the books Nao had left until he had passed out on his futon bed and he assumed Derek had snuck in some point during the early morning. One of the books had been a children’s picture book and a green, cute creature similar to the one on the map had been cheerfully skipping hand in hand with a small child on the cover.

 

Stiles felt a funny little jolt in his stomach as Derek reached for the picture book. Derek was the kind of person that loomed, even though he and Stiles were pretty much the same height, and it felt strange to see him sitting so relaxed on the floor. His toes were long and a little hairy, as were his shins and calves. Stiles had fallen asleep in his clothes but Derek had stripped out of his pants and was wearing loose boxers instead of the dark briefs Stiles had seen yesterday. He had taken off his shirt too but that wasn’t a surprise.

 

“This looks nothing like the thing that grabbed you.” Stiles bit back a sarcastic comment that he had said the same thing the previous night and instead nodded in agreement. Last night’s fight was still fresh in his mind and the rest of his brain felt shrouded in exhaustion, like a low fog. He blinked hard and stifled a yawn, his only comfort being that Derek looks just as pale and tired as he felt.

 

“This one does,” He sat down on Derek’s mattress, just out of touching range, and reached for a thicker book he had left open. “This is more like the thing that grabbed me.”

 

That drawing was much more accurate, in Stiles’s opinion. The creature was hunched over, a dark shell on it’s back and a yellowish peaked nose and mouth connected like a turtle’s head. This drawing had a dark, stringy hair-like mess on its head with a dark spot on its head that look like something had carved out it’s skull with an ice cream spoon. Stiles remembered a few details from the attack, before it had latched onto his ankles and knocked him off his feet, but it hadn’t been hair so much as soggy, tangles of something that looked like matted seaweed forming a bowl-like shape on its head. Its limbs had been longer too, at least longer then its torso, and thin like a sapling branches though the long webbed fingers had been as hard at steel. That one had teeth as well, pearly white with sharp incisors and it had grinned at him before it had disappeared into the water.

 

“And it’s supposed to be happy cucumbers.”

 

“They’re tricksters,” Stiles said. “Usually they don’t kill humans though, when they do, they like to eat their insides through their anus.” Derek, who  had listen unflinchingly when Stiles had explained that the Toros herd liked to stamp their victim’s head open and luck the brain matter out of the skull like cookie dough, blanched and closed the book abruptly. “But they’re pretty easy to trick. I didn’t know about the cucumber thing, that’s neat.”

 

“You remember the anus thing but not the cucumber.”

 

“What can I say, some things stick with me,” Stiles smiled. “Did you find anything last night?”

 

Derek shook his head. “There are a few other inns nearby. There’s,” he paused. “There’s a lot of death nearby.”

 

Stiles blinked in surprise, even the sleepy parts of his brain perking up at the Big D word. “Like, from the three tourists? I thought they had found those bodies.”

 

“No,” Derek’s eyebrows were furrowed in the way they got when he was frustrated with something. The last time Stiles remembered seeing that expression they had been in Florida and were trying to track some kind of gator monster that was living in the sewer and eating the homeless. At least, all the signs had pointed towards a gator monster in the beginning but eventually Derek sorted out the mutilated scents and they had tracked down the human monster that had been selling organs on the black market. “It’s… more organic.”

 

“You didn’t smell it before?”

 

“I was a little distracted fishing you out from the lake,” he said bitingly and Stiles sighed because it was too early to deal with it.

 

“Look, I’m going to call Cora, it’s been three days since we left California and we haven’ checked in yet You going to be okay here?”

 

Derek just glared at him and Stiles threw up his hands in defeat. Derek was cranky on normal days. It seemed that a jetlagged Derek was even more charming. There was wifi in the main lobby and Stiles threw on some clothes before heading out there and logging into his Skype. Cora answered after the first few ring and Stiles suddenly remembered the thirteen hour time difference.

 

“Crap!” was the first transcontinental word he said.

 

Cora just chuckled. “ _So, Japan’s that good, huh?”_

 

“Did I wake you?” he winced.

 

 _“No, it’s just past eight_ ,” he could feel her still laughing at his expense. _“I’m up to my ears in homework still._ ”

 

“I just wanted to make sure no one’s gotten in any trouble so far. Just because Papa Hale is halfway across the world doesn’t mean you kids can throw wild keggers.”

 

_“Don’t worry, that’s not until tomorrow night.”_

 

“As long as we can get our security deposit back,” Stiles sighed because sometimes rooming with the youngest Hale was simultaneously the biggest headache and most convenient set up ever. “Seriously, how are your exams?”

 

 _“Summer courses are worse than regular ones. How the hell do you think I’m doing?_ ” she sighed. _“Everyone is fine, you worrywart. I’m surprised it’s you not cranky pants calling though._ ”

 

“I did have to sit on him a bit,” Stiles bit back a yawn. “Look, there’s not much in the way of Wifi here so if something happens you’re going to have to e-mail and wait until I can get back you to.”

 

He could heard Cora typing something in the background. “ _Yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure to update you every time Isaac calls up crying over his girl woes. Seriously, you’d think Austin would have a decent nightlife but no, that boy can’t function unless he’s in a complicated love triangle.”_

 

“And Scott?”

 

_“You think he’s surfaced for air since Allison is back from break? Though why they decided to stick around Ohio when they could be stealing your room and enjoying the Big Apple in beyond me.”_

“Dear God, do _not_ let those two into my room,” Stile sighed. “They’ll have sex on _everything_.”

 

There was a long paused and Cora coughed guiltily. “ _Uh, I did let Danny stay over the other day-_ “

 

Stiles lifted his phone away from his ear long enough to smack himself in the forehead before responding. “Well, fine. At least Danny and his hookups smell nice.”

 

_“Lydia’s fine too, Uncle Peter hasn’t called in days—get off the phone and start investigating! The sooner you go that the sooner you can buy me a sword or something.”_

“I snuck a werewolf through customs, that was the biggest feat I can manage.”

 

 _“Fine, some ninja stars or something. Something pointy._ ”

 

Stiles wasn’t sure giving the girl _more_ deadly objects was going to help them should his father ever stop by and see her highly illegal arsenal but he just agreed and finally hung up. When he went back to the room, Derek hadn’t gone back to sleep like he had thought but instead was dressed and straightening the books into a pile on the table.

 

“We should go scouting now that it’s light outside,” Derek said without any kind of preamble. “Together this time.”

 

“Whatever you say, cranky pants,” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Everyone is fine, by the way.”

 

Derek tapped his ears annoyed. “I know. The walls are made of paper.”

 

“It’s not polite to listen in on other people’s calls,” Stiles gritted his teeth. Derek ignored him and went to the door to tug on his shoes.

 

Stiles had thought they would take the car and had been gleeful at the thought of driving on the opposite side of the road for the first time but Derek strode towards the woods instead, back along the back Stiles had wandered down the other day and Stiles had to jog to catch up.

 

The heat was just as intense as yesterday and before long the sun was starting to beat down directly on them. Stiles was grateful every time they passed through the shade but with the growth came swarms of mosquitoes that seemed to hunger for his exotic blood. By the time they reached the lake, Stiles’s arms and legs were dotted in painfully itchy welts.

 

Either the deaths had scared away tourists or they were on a trail not usually used by the main crowd because Stiles saw nothing to justify Nao’s description of the place as a tourist hub. The Lake was quiet and still with a few people on the opposite shore and one or two boats in the distance. They were alone though and Stiles couldn’t help but look across the water that had almost been his grave with a shiver. Derek stopped abruptly and Stiles was too distracted to stop in time. He stumbled though Derek had barely reacted to being run into.

 

“What the hell, did you brakes malfunction?” Stiles regained his balance but Derek ignored him and seemed memsorized with sniffing the air.

 

“Do you smell that?”

 

Stiles took an experimental sniff but only came up with a combination of lake water and mossy undergrowth. It smelt hot and steamy, and he couldn’ help but become painfully aware he himself was sweating hard enough his shirt was plastered to his body. He frowned. “It’s not my fault this country is killing my deodorant, man. I’d appreciate it if you stopped pointing it out.”

 

“Not that,” Derek said impatiently. “It’s—“ he smelled again, the frown back on his face. “It smells like a body is decaying.”

 

“Well,” Stiles lifted his tee shirt away from his body and winced at the wet feeling. “If you’re worried about being paid at least you know you can get part-time work as a cadaver dog.”

 

But instead of bitting back, Derek froze and his arm shot out before Stiles could react, shoving him back towards the open trail into the forest. “Stiles, run!”

 

“What?” Stiles’s body reacted on instinct at the word but it didn’t matter, a familiar steely, slimy grip clamped on his elbow from behind. He turned and for the second time since he had landed in the country he found himself faced with a monster.

 

It looked the same as before, taller and lanky with limbs that were longer than a person’s and skeletal body that sucked in under the ribs. There was a mess of what looked like kale and seaweed twisted into a mockery of a crown on its head and it had bulging round eyes set above a turtle-like beaked mouth. It grinned, teeth silver and black like sharp nubs on black gums. Stiles felt frozen, the memory of water closing over his head washing over him and he found it suddenly hard to breath.

 

Then there was a roar and Derek leapt on the kappa, claws and teeth making the monster start and release the brusing grip. Stiles stumbled back, making sure not to move towards the water as the kappa hissed and dodged as Derek took another swipe. Derek paced, making sure to keep himself between Stiles and the creature as it retreated to the water’s edge and studied them curiously. Stiles wished suddenly he had been more prepared but it must be the residual tiredness that made him forget to bring along something useful, like the cucumbers. Derek roared at it again but instead of being cowed like most monsters it just seemed interiged.

 

Then, it opened its mouth and instead of hissing again it said, in a perfectly intelligible Australian accent, “Sorry mate! Just thought I’d say g’day! No need to get your panties in a twist.”

 

It was quite literally the last thing Stiles had expected and Derek must have been just as surprised because he shifted back to human form. Stiles tensed again in case it was a trick to catch them off guard but the kappa stood at the water’s edge like a monsterous green skeleton statue and waited pateintly for a response.

 

“You speak English?” Stiles hoped his voice wasn’t as shaky as his hands felt.

 

“Of course, mate!” the drawl was clear and Stiles swore the thing was smiling. “Paid top dollar for private lessons. I can also do some decent Cantonese and Korean if you give me a half chance. World’s shirking, you know.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles was grateful the thing wasn’t moving any closer. “Sure. Globalization and all. I guess I’m just surprised because I didn’t think you needed to be bilingual just because you wanted to munch on some international cuisine.”

 

The kappa croaked a laugh. “I wasn’t going to _eat_ you.”

 

“You were going to do something to this body,” Stiles shot back. “And I know it wasn’t going to be pleasant.”

 

The kappa ignored him and leaned forward delicately to get a closer look Derek. “You’re one of those werewolf thingys, aren’t you? I looked you up after yesterday. I’m a bit bookish, in case that’s slipped by. Utterly pleased to meet you.”

 

Derek growled and Stiles saw his shift back into his wolf form. The kappa straightened, fascinated. “I don’t care if you were a professor at Harvard, you’ve killed three people so far and I’m going to stop it here and now.”

 

But the kappa held up one of it’s long bony, double jointed hands in a peaceful gesture. “Now hold up. I know what you’re talking about, mate, and I had nothing to do with those.”

 

“You tried to kill me,” Stiles couldn’t help but point out.

 

“Now, now,” the kappa protested. “To be far, you ignored my greeting. Incredibly rude.”

 

“Greeting?”

 

“I did offer you a handshake. I thought that would get across the cultural divide and all. Plus, less lethal then bowing, you know.” The kappa tapped the top of its head and Stiles vaguely remembered from his reading that the top of a kappa’s head was hollowed out, like a bowl, and spilling the water on its head rendered it helpless. He supposed in a country which greeted by bowing a handshake would be a modernization a demon like a kappa would embrace.

 

“Handshake?” Stiles repeated because he had only a vague memory of what had happened before. He remembered being terrified when he had seen the demon approaching from the water and then the hand reaching out to grab him under the water’s surface. In retrospect he supposed it could have been a handshake. “You might want to be clearer on that the next time!”

 

“And I wasn’t going to kill you over that, promises, mate. I was just playing a bit. Show you a bit of the local flavour,” he grinned and Stiles shuddered at the unsettling teeth again. “Now you got a good story to tell your mates back home, yeah? It’s all about bolstering the tourism industry in this economy.”

 

Stiles felt off kilter by the whole conversation. It could all be a crafty trick, there was no reason to believe that the kappa was telling the truth. He had truly thought he had been going to die yesterday but then again he had thought of the kappa like one of the brainless, animalistic monsters they had faced back home. It was sounded smart and reasonable and despite himself Stiles found himself wanting to talk more and try to get to the bottom of everything. He took a step forward before he was blocked by Derek’s arm.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” he growled through his fangs but Stiles just pushed his arm away. He took a few more steps, making sure the kappa didn’t look anything but mildly curious at his approach.

 

“Hello,” he stick out his hand, grateful it looked steady. “Sorry, about the other day.”

 

The kappa blinked, his frog-like eyes glistening in the sun before he grinned toothily and slapped his thin hand enthusiastically in Stiles’s. “No worries, mate! Misunderstandings all around, I reckon!”

 

Stiles could feel Derek restraining himself a hairbreadth from his back and he carefully let go of the handshake before the werewolf pounced. The kappa didn’t seem to mind that Derek was looking at his throat with a kind of longing as he stuck out his hand to Derek. There were a few tense seconds before Derek cautiously met the kappa’s grip with the briefest up-down motion Stiles had ever seen before snatching his hand back.

 

“So, now that we’re friends,” Stiles said carefully. “If you didn’t kill those tourists, who did.”

 

The kappa shrugged it’s thin shoulders, a disturbingly human gesture. “No clue, friend. I wish I knew, the whole things been bad for business. People don’t come to see the lake if they think they’re going to end up face down in it.”

 

“What kind of business?” Stiles couldn’t help but ask. He tried to imagine what kind of job a seven foot green monster could do without being noticed and failed.

 

With that, the kappa took a step forward and Stiles found himself being pulled back almost instantly by Derek. The kappa just held up his hands again. “If you care for a bit of a walk, I can show you easier than tell you, mate.”

 

“We’re not your _mates_ ,” Derek growled. “And how far from civilization do we have to go for this walk?”

 

“Not far,” the kappa smiled. “Come on, it’ll be worth your while, I promise.”

 

Stiles carefully pried Derek’s hands off his shoulders, frowning at the small claw prinks in his shirt. “It’ll be fine, you big baby. I have a good feeling about this.”

 

“Right,” Derek growled. “You and your good ideas got me impaled in New Jersey.”

 

“Okay, so I didn’t know that the mermaid was going to carry an actual trident. You should be used to impalements by now, and that one didn’t even go all the way through.”

 

“Stiles.”

 

“Look,” he dropped his voice as the kappa looked away, scratching at one of the green tendrils tanging down the side of his face.  “If things go bad I promise you can go on a rampaging disemboweling spree to your heart’s content. But we’ve exhausted our information sources already and if he can give us more we can’t exactly be picky. Unless you’ve suddenly mastered Japanese overnight.”

 

“Fine,” Derek snapped but he moved so he was between the kappa looking innocently at the clouds and Stiles. “But if this goes bad I’m going to hold this over you for a very long time.”

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Abunai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit unbetaed, sorry! Ah, all my Japanese folklore is about the thrown out the window with this new season but screw it, AU it is!

Chapter 3

 

               The kappa led them further into the forest leading towards the half of Lake Sai they hadn’t been on. Stiles noticed he was careful to keep them hidden from the actual coast of the lake though there were few people on it. Derek had seemed torn between keeping Stiles far away from the strange green monster and also making sure to keep Stiles in his eyesight. Stiles finally shoved him forward so he was between Stiles and the kappa on the path, cursing under his breath about overbearing werewolves and their stupid misguided soccer mom tendencies.

 

               It felt like they had been walking for a long time but it might be because Stiles wasn’t used to so much walking. Sure, they did hikes through the preserve and it wasn’t like he had his jeep in New York, what with the cost of gas and parking. But this felt more like trudging rather than the usually hurried pace he had adopted when he was on the pavement. It was hot too, still smothering hot, like Japan had decided to wrap him up in a thick blanket than crank the temperature up to Holy Mother of God. He lost count of how many times he had brought the hem of his tee shirt up to wipe at his brow.

 

               He hadn’t lost count of how many times Derek had, though. That too, wasn’t helping. The heat of the air and the constant buzz of insects around him was making him feel muddled and hyper alert. Normally he could keep his libido in check around the older man but the strangeness of everything was bringing that nearly forgotten crush to the forefront. Derek was dripping with sweat as well, maybe even more so than Stiles, and Stiles couldn’t help but appreciate every inch of slick, sweaty skin he exposed.

 

               “This is ridiculous,” Derek sounded as the heat stoked anger instead of other, confusing and frankly a little juvenile emotions. “How the hell do you people live here?”

 

               “It’s not so bad,” the kappa was ever cheerful. “And we’re nearly there. If it’s the heat that’s bugging you then you’ll right like the little place we’ve got set up, yeah.”

 

               “As long as it’s got AC,” Stiles swatted for the umpteenth time at his neck.

 

               They had been climbing steadily for the last while and the kappa led them to where the trees had been forced aside by mossy rock. It looked solid but the kappa led them behind a small grove of roots and skinny ancient looking trees until he spotted a narrow crevice in the side. The lip of the rock covered the entrance so the shadow looked like more dark moss but it was wide enough for at least two people to pass through easily.

 

               “Right through here, mates,” the kappa gestured to them but pulled his hand back when Derek growled. “Hey, now, no need for the teeth.”

 

               “We’ll let you lead,” Stiles said quickly.

 

               “It’s safe enough,” the kappa grumbled but headed into the rock obligingly. “Nearly four hundred years here and it’s never fallen on my head.”

 

               Stiles followed Derek in behind and it was incredible the sudden relief he felt. It was like the shaded rock radiated coolness. The sweat on his skin cooled and dried within the first few steps and Stiles knew it was going to leave him feeling sticky and gross later but all he could concentrate on now was the pure relief of being out of the sun. The inside wasn’t much bigger than the entrance but it was taller and the shadowed figure of the kappa was standing easily though he was clearly a head taller than Derek. There was a shuffling sound as the kappa reached for something on the wall than the dark cave was suddenly lit up by a powerful flashlight.

 

               “Right then, follow me! Watch your feet, it’s easy to bash your brain in if you’re not nimble.”

 

               Derek tensed as if the kappa had said a threat but Stiles was too busy soaking in the cool, smooth pebbled rock to care. The warning had been needed though, when Derek stumbled over a sudden decline a few steps in. Stiles kept his hand on the wall to steady himself as the kappa had the only light. It was hard to tell how far they were going in, or rather under if the continuing decline was anything to go by, because he had to keep focusing on where to put his feet in the dark. He could almost feel Derek’s frustration like a vibrating ball of hate stumbling in front of him. The kappa would let out another warning anytime there was an obvious overhang but for the most part Stiles managed to edge him way down steadily but carefully.

 

               Soon enough, they reached a part where the path was lit up. The kappa flicked off the flash light as they came up to the string LED lights, some of them flickering on and off because, Stiles realized, they were actually Christmas lights. He wondered where the electricity was coming from and why it wasn’t strung up from the entrance to here but now that they could see properly the kappa started to hurry them along.

 

               “Sorry about that, mates. Not far now—watch your head there, fella, gotta move that beam—It’s been ages since we’ve had guests so apologies in advance.”

 

               “We?” Stiles couldn’t help but ask. “How many are there?”

 

               “Oh, a dozen or so now,” the kappa said. “We’ve got a few wanderers coming though. It’s a nice little gig we’ve got but you know how things are. Some folks don’t like the earthquakes.”

 

              For a heart stopping minutes, Stiles realized he had forgotten that fact. Derek whipped around, his eyes narrowing because he had probably sensed Stiles’s sudden panic. He just glared back; if the kappa was right and these caves had been around for so long than they could probably stand up to a few earthquakes. “So, wait, you guys play in a rock band or something?” Stiles asked.

 

               Instead of answering, the kappa stopped as they came up to what looked like a dead end. Then, without warning, the kappa seemed to disappear into the wall. Derek’s hand shot back to shove Stiles protectively against the wall. “Stop it,” he pushed at the arm but Derek’s wasn’t budging. “Jesus, Derek, I swear to God if you don’t stop pushing me around—“

 

               Before Stiles could figure out something impressive to say, the kappa popped his head out—there was another shadowed gap, much narrower than before. This time Derek let his arm be shoved down as Stiles squeezed between the cold wall and Derek’s much warmer body so he could see the space more clearly.

 

               “You fellas alright then?”

 

               “Yeah,” Stiles squeezed past Derek and felt around the rounded edge carefully as the kappa shrugged and disappeared back through. “Just peachy.” Narrow: that was an understatement if Stiles had ever seen one. The gap started out vertical but he could see it quickly angled to almost forty-five degrees. The kappa was tall but when he flattened against the rock he fit like a letter into an envelope. The gap couldn’t be more than ten or eight inches at the widest parts and while Stiles was pretty sure he could shimmy through, as long as it didn’t get any smaller, he could help but glance back to Derek’s shadowed hulk.

              

               Derek saw him flick his eyes up and down his body and his nostrils flared slightly. “What?”

 

               “Nothing, it’s just—I don’t think you’re going to fit.”

 

               “I’ll fit.”

 

               “Dude, it’s not like I think you’re fat,” Stiles snapped. “But all those years of building muscle— emphasis on the building—it’s going to have some drawbacks.”

 

               “I’ll. Fit.”

 

               “I’ll be fine on my own, you know. I have handled myself in New York for a while. I’ve met rats on the subway meaner than this guy.”

 

               “Some kind of hold up?” the kappa’s voice echoed through the dark gap and Stiles moved to go through but was brought up short when Derek lashed out and grabbed his arm.

 

               “One sec!” Stiles shouted and turned to glare at Derek in the same move. “What. The hell. Dude, let me go!”

 

               “No.”

 

               “I get it, you can’t keep your hands off me, but all this shoving and grabbing isn’t something I normally do unless I’m horizontal.”

 

               Derek let go of him like his hand had burnt. Stiles took advantage of it and pushed his way into the gap. He had bulked up since high school. Not much, neither of his parents had been exceptionally big boned and he preferred speed over strength when he knew the worst of the fighting would be taken over by werewolves anyway, but enough that he had to suck in his stomach. He could see light through the gap and he shuffled his way through quickly, forcing the angry panic telling him how stupid this whole thing was to the back of his mind until he popped out at the end.

 

               “Welcome to our humble abode!”

 

               Humble was the wrong way to put it. The LED lights had just been the beginning. There was an expansive cave here, far enough back that Stiles couldn’t see the end and tall enough the rock roof was barely visible. There were beams which made the whole thing seem squarer and more planned with lights running up and down and over the wood so it hardly felt underground at all. Rugs covered the whole floor and it was crammed with chairs, couches, a broad table that looked big enough to fit several families and then some. Stiles even saw a wide screen TV on one side playing some kind of game show and a pretty lady shoved her face into a cake on the screen.

 

               The kappa wasn’t alone either.

 

               There was a brief moment of regret because if he died Derek was totally going to fuck up his eulogy with I-told-him-so’s. There were more kappas with body, pebbled skin and hard looking beaked mouths, long hands tipped with claws. There were other monsters too: a fat, red, horned demon-like goat-man was playing some kind of chess game with a grizzled kappa and a gruesome looking baby with bulging eyes was reading a newspaper, a cigar clutched in red-veined fangs. One looked nearly human but Stiles saw red fox ears poking through her hair as they all stopped what they were doing and looked at him like he had emerged carrying a bloody head or something.

 

               Before anyone could react, though, there was a painful grunting sound behind him and Derek didn’t so much as emerge as force his way out of the gap and crash into Stiles’s back, sending the two gracelessly onto the rug.

 

               The fox woman jumped to her feet first, shouting angrily at their guide who just responded in his cheerful tone. Derek seemed to not care about Stiles’s earlier comments about being grabby anymore because he crouched over Stiles protectively, his face starting to shift. That, of course, sent the whole room into chaos as the rest of the monsters stood defensively, shouting at their host who was rolling his eyes and trying to placid the crowd.

 

              “Oi, mate, how about ya choose one shape or the other?” the kappa said, half turning to them. “The crowd in here spooks a little easy, alright?”

 

               “They’re not the only ones,” Stiles muttered under his breath but didn’t move because he was pretty sure he was the most breakable thing in this room. “Derek, I think we’re out numbered, you need to chill.”

 

               “I’m never listening to you again.”

 

               “Rightly so,” he agreed. Derek relaxed though, his face smoothing back to human and their host seemed to have calmed everyone down enough. The red demon and his kappa partner (one of the four in total, Stiles counted, excluding their host) grumbled and turned back to their game. The baby went back to reading, saying something that made the fox woman roll her eyes and stomp to the rear of the room, shouting over her shoulder. The others, three kappa demons shifted back to their TV though Stiles could hear them chattering excitedly.

 

               “Sorry about that,” their host sighed. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour!”

 

               This part was obviously the living area and the kappa led them through it, past what looked like a kitchen with a gas stove and several refrigerators carved into the wall. A woman dressed entirely in white with snow white hair and skin dropped a pan in surprise as they went past. Stiles shivered as she stared at them with eyes that had no colour. Stiles didn’t mind this time when Derek moved in close enough their shoulders were touching.

 

               The cave separated into a series of tunnels. Some of them had been blocked off with colourful fabrics or bamboo doors. Bedrooms, probably, Stiles realized as they followed him through the maze with LED lights string along the wooden beams lighting their way. Finally, they reached a room that was much smaller than the first one but big enough  to comfortably accommodate the handful of creatures and their equipment. As the kappa had claimed, it was suddenly very obvious what kind of business they ran.

 

               “Wow,” Stiles couldn’t help but touch a half done chest of draws. It looked like a puzzle was being assembled on the door with different kinds of wood bringing in different colours to make a portrait of the sun rising behind Mt. Fuji. A skeletal man with eyes as big as his fist and long stringy scolded him and the man’s head wobbled like his neck was broken. Derek growled.

 

               “This is where the magic happens, so to speak,” the kappa beam and spread his arms.

 

               “I’ve seen this stuff in the shops in town,” Stiles said. “The boxes—is that a kimono?” A toothless old woman grinned as she didn’t pause from weaving pink flowers into the silk on the loom. There was a head attached to a thick hairy leg—just the leg, thigh down and barefoot, Stiles noted – jumping up and down on the peddle.

 

               “It’s a lost art, you know,” the kappa sounded proud. “The young people move to the cities and give up their family trades. Someone has to protect the culture and what better way than this?”

 

               “That’s why you need the tourists,” Derek eyed a black tendril ghost that was materialized around a floating eye the size of his head. The eye blinked, somehow back at him. “Without them no one is going to buy your stuff.”

 

               “Someone has to pay the cable bills, yeah.”

 

               “But,” Stiles scrambled to find words. “I mean, why do you need money? You guys are monsters!”

 

               The kappa didn’t seem insulted. “Most of us are pretty long-lived. It gets boring unless we adapt. It’s not so different than before. We used to terrorize for a living but these new folks, they don’t scare easy.” He frowned. “I play the video games these days. And we still have to eat, pass the time—How does your furry friend get by?”

 

               It was true, Stiles supposed. He knew the Hale family had successful jobs before the fire. Peter was running freelance in Louisiana now just to pass the time. There was even a surly vampire working at the new age bar Stiles had brought Nao to in New York but he kept to himself and made a mean Alabama Slammer. A chicken cawed at him before sending a giant fireball onto the clay bowl in front of it. It wasn’t like these guys could get a normal day job.

 

               They spent more time looking at the crafts, Stiles asking a million questions that their host seemed delighted to answer. None of the other creatures spoke any English, some, like the chicken-monster, didn’t seem to speak at all, but as they got used to the visitors (and Derek shifted with proper introductions) they seemed more than happy to greet them through translation. Stiles’s brain was dizzy with new names and introductions, his hands itching for something to write on because he wanted to record all of this. He should have brought a tape recorder and wondered if he could put off a semester just to stay here and ask more.

 

               But Derek was getting antsy as time passed and the kappa reluctantly mentioned the woods were dark and dangerous to travel in the dark. Stiles realized they had missed lunch and more than likely Nao was starting to worry. The kappa led them to another entrance, the main one which was plenty big enough to have brought all their furniture through.

 

               “Are you sure you can find your way?” the kappa was wringing his hands as Derek impatiently waited by the entrance. “It’s a rather long walk back.”

 

               “We’ll be fine,” Stiles assured him. “Thank you, for everything.”

              

               “Come back anytime,” the kappa passed him a business card with a gruesome picture of him smiling with all his teeth and a phone number, though where he kept them Stiles had no idea. “We’d like to help, in any way we can to find that thing killing tourists.”

 

               “Right,” Stiles had almost forgotten about that as their goal and tried to hide it guiltily. “Of course.”

 

               “You can call or text that but if you need help in a hurry you should see Mr. Kichio-san. He has a store not far from where you lads are staying.”

 

               “Thanks,” Stiles nodded.

 

               The entrance was around the wrong side of the lake but the sun was much lower in the sky and though it was still sweltering hot Stiles was too busy thinking to let it bother him. Derek led them as sure as if he had walked through these forests all his life back to the hotel.

 

               “They could be lying.”

 

               Stiles made a face because that was Derek’s response to everything. He knew where the pessimism came from; Derek’s life had been a series of trusting the wrong people for as long as Stiles remembered. But Stiles himself had a good intuition for all Derek’s was shit and his gut was telling him they had been looking in the wrong place. “I don’t think so.”

 

               “Deaths and legends draw in tourists too,” Derek pointed out. It was true. Beacon Hills had opened two motels since the Nemeton had sparked back to life and Stiles had spent as much time killing evil creatures as hoodwinking adventure seekers when he had been home. “And do you really think all those things just decided to stop killing people?” He snorted. “They feed off human fear, Stiles.”

 

               “You don’t,” Stiles shot back. “At least, not you stopped hanging out in Scott’s bedroom in the dark in junior year.” He heard Derek start to protest but cut him off. “They have a good argument and no one tried anything on me.”

 

               “He tried to drown you the other day.”

 

               “Culture clash,” Stiles hand waved the trauma and terror of the water closing over his head. “I’m over it. Besides, what they’re doing is pretty harmless. You’re lucky, you know. You can pass as human.”

 

               “I _am_ human.”

 

               “Last time I checked fully human humans only grow hair in strange places once in their lives,” he argued. “It’s good they’ve found a way to live. I can see their point. If they did things like the old days to survive there’s no way they can just sink back into the shadows. We’ve become immune to that kind of fear of the dark. Even of werewolves, Derek. Don’t try to deny it. You’ve got to work with the real world in order to live in it.”

 

               Derek just grunted dismissively and Stiles sighed. “Come on, you of all people should sympathize with them.”

 

               “What do you mean by _that_?”

 

               “I mean you know what it’s like!” Stiles threw out a hand. “You weren’t exactly welcomed back to Beacon Hills with open arms. You were living in the ruins of your family’s house, for God’s sake. How the hell did you fine someone to hire you, anyway?”

 

               There was a stiffness to Derek’s back and Stiles had a sinking feeling. “Oh my God. You still don’t have a job do you.”

 

               “Stop talking.”

 

               “I can’t believe you! Even Cora works part time at Georgina’s. Even _Peter_ works. What the hell do you do in your spare time?”

 

               “Can you drop it?”

 

               Stiles thought back to all those phone calls and emails he had sent whenever he found trouble. He could count on Isaac if it was down south, sometimes Peter if the man wasn’t in a finicky mood. Cora he could drag along on the East coast, Scott and Danny anywhere in middle America and Lydia if she could find time usually Skyped in. Most were good about replying quickly, the key to a widespread back was communication in the internet age. But Derek—it was like he was always sitting by the phone. And it didn’t seem to matter where the monster was, a swamp in Mississippi or sinking across the border in Lake Michigan, Derek was always on its tail. Hell, Derek had gotten on a plane to be here when even globe-trotting Allison had giving apologetic excuses. Stiles assumed it was because he was an Alpha, that he was biologically compelled to come to the aid of a pack member, but maybe—

 

Stiles had the ugly realization that Derek was probably just very lonely.

 

               “We should stop and eat when we get into town,” Derek sounded cross.

 

               “Yeah, I’ve got the money I changed at the airport,” Stiles frowned as he followed Derek through the wood. “I’m hungry enough I could eat a horse. And my feet are killing me.”

 

               Derek shot him a raised eyebrow. “Is that what they eat in this country?”

 

               When they got to the edge of town Stiles had be ready to try and scout out some kind of food resembling home but Derek led them down narrow streets through closely packed wooden buildings until they reached a narrow door with a red cloth barrier.

 

               “Here?” Stiles said reluctantly. It wasn’t that it looked dirty. He knew they were in the equivalent of the middle of nowhere Indiana and brand names like MacDonalds were hard to come by but he had been hoping for something recognizable at least. It vaguely looked like a rundown roadside bar, if roadside were crammed between two other buildings that also looked like they would fall over in a stiff breeze. Derek had to duck to get inside and Stiles had no real choice but to follow him.

 

               “ _Irrashaimase!”_ There were a few tables along the left side with small wooden chairs and a counter on the right with chairs as well. On the other side was a cooking area, pots, pans and plates all crammed long the wall on the edge and a dingy fridge. Two old men were drinking at the back table and to Stiles’s surprise two blond men were eating some kind of noodles with chopsticks at the counter.  The only cook, another old man with a face lined heavily in wrinkles it looked like he didn’t know how to do anything else but smile. “Oh, hello!”

 

               It was a relief to see all human faces, as fascinating as the day had been and Stiles found himself sitting on the last two chairs at the counter elbow to elbow with the two guys who turned out to be from Missouri. Despite the greeting, the cook didn’t seem to speak any other English but fortunately the main dish was something Stiles knew well and soon enough both he and Derek had two bowls of ramen.

 

               Dale and Rick: Stiles made friends easily as Derek seemed to inhale half his bowl in one go. They had come for the camping, they said, and were moving on the next night someplace north. Backpacking for the summer, Dale had explained and they exchanged friendly chatter about the heat (the air conditioner rattled and was expelling white mist along with the cold air but Stiles wasn’t going to complain), the people, and, finally, the mysterious deaths.

 

               “Doesn’t it make you nervous?” If this was the food the instant Cup Noodles back home were trying to emulate they had a long way to go. Stiles was happy to get the guys to talk and just eat as much as he could between questions. “I mean, four people in a year?”

 

               “Yeah, but it’s not like we didn’t know that,” Dale was working on another beer, his third since they had sat down. “There’s that forest—you know, the suicide forest right there.”

 

               The back of Stiles’s neck prickled and he nearly choked on his noodles. “The _what_ forest?” Derek asked, thumping Stiles’s back painfully as he tried to suck in air.

 

               “You know, that forest that right there?” Dale pointed in the randomly in three directions before settling on one. “People go there to die all the time. I bet that’s what those people were doing, they just wanted to go the watery way instead. I get it man! It’s twisted but if you’re going to go you’d at least better go the way you want, right?” Dale’s words were slurring a bit but Stiles was desperately wanting a wifi connection because how the hell had he missed _suicide forest_?

 

               Try as he might, there was no more useful information to be gotten out of the two. Both were the wrong side of drunk at this point and when they started to repeat themselves, wondering out loud if it wasn’t in fact a forest that grew shrooms . Derek threw down some money before hauling Stiles out by the scruff of his neck when Stiles started to ask too many questions about that.

 

               “Dude, we have to go to this forest.”

 

               “Dude, no we don’t,” Derek released him as they hit the main street. “Concentrate, we’ve got to get back and tell Nao about the supernatural slave labour on his mountain.”

 

               “It’s hardly even a sweat shop,” Stiles rolled his eyes but sighed and started after Derek, even though his feet were protesting they hadn’t rested nearly long enough.

 

               But when they got back to the hotel they barely had time to get their shoes off when Nao ran out to greet them, practically vibrating with anxiety.

 

               “Don’t worry, we found the kappa,” Stiles started, trying to calm him down because he looked like he was going to throw up. “Actually, they’re pretty cool—“

 

               “One of the guests went missing,” Nao interrupted him. “We’ve got to find him, now.”

 

              

              

 

              

 

 

 

                


End file.
